The Inner Beast
by IrateWritreviewer
Summary: Lincoln Loud, an 11-year-old boy, lives with 10 sisters and his parents, and absolutely hates them with a fiery passion. Lincoln Loud, also a 40-year-old disgraced king, vows to protect his kingdom from a decimating destruction heading his way. Both characters will learn however, that anger, isolated to the breaking point, will destroy everything and everyone they love and cherish.
1. Prologue

"Your Majesty! It's here! By the horizon!"

"It has arrived! My liege, it has arrived!"

"By the grace of God! It's HUGE!"

"It'll cover the sky if it keeps coming towards us…"

"Oh heaven Almighty… This is what our king must face?"

Knights within the medieval throne room clattered around to deliver to news to their king. They were frantic, desperate with their pleas. However, he did not budge or say anything. Rather he kept his eyes closed and his face forward, remaining stalwart and calm, almost as if he was in acceptance of a penance of sorts.

 **This is it… The moment of truth… The time and place where I must finally stand on my own two feet.**

Indeed, outside in the sky was a large ominous dark cloud far in the horizon, covering a large field of grass. Flashes of thunder and lightning appeared within the clouds. The rumours behind the cloud was that the creature lurked within the clouds. It was said that it had no physical form, yet it had glowing white eyes, wings of darkness and wrought destruction on many kingdoms who dared to be in its path.

But the King knew the truth by it. Behind the beast. Behind everything.

"Our lord… Our noble, generous King…"

"To be condemned by such a fate at such a young age…"

"Dear Lord, please have mercy on our young King…"

"To think that after all these years, _he,_ of all the Royal Family, would be our savior…"

"You're not wrong. After _that_ incident, he vowed to do anything and everything to redeem himself."

"You're right. Our king more than redeemed himself, and we shall support him as necessary!"

Many of the townsfolk clamored around the walls of the castle. Ranging from dukes, lords, regents, merchants, priests, workers, refugees to mere peasants, they all wept tears or hung their heads. Two and a half decades ago, they have viewed this man once upon a time as a skilled warrior, a bad-tempered prince, a battle-hungry squire, and a bloodthirsty killer. But now, he has changed, accepting responsibility for what he has done for the better, and became one of the world's most beloved kings.

 **I know that I have wronged them… and in essence, I've wronged myself… ever since I came to this realm…**

The king, however, still had his eyes closed, almost as if he was thinking… or perhaps, he was trying to remember. All the times he had when he woke up from his slumber, to his training, to helping the citizens in need, to solve disputes and resolve unwanted discrepancies. The memories this particular king made will be cherished even in the beyond.

Finally, the kingly man opens his eyes, his black irises studying his knights speak urgently with him about news he has already heard, with some of them on their knees pleading about reconsidering his choice. His faded platinum blonde hair waved around in tandem from the open windows' wind. His mouth was dry, and his recently shaved face bristled from the chills. His face had a look of tired determination, even when he heard the words of the townsfolk trying to get a glimpse at their king.

 **It's a shame really… If not for the circumstances, I would have stayed here… right where everything became right…**

And their pleas to not sacrifice himself would not stop. Instead, they got louder and louder, until the king stood up suddenly.

" _ **QUIET!"**_

Everybody almost recoiled from their king's deep baritone shout. Not just because of the surprise volume that overtook everybody else's voice, but because it brought back terrible memories.

 **It was because of me that they have experienced their horrible past. But… no more running.**

However, it was thankfully only used to quiet them down. When the king knew he had everybody's attention, he drew a breath, and began to publicly speak.

"I know you all have your concerns with me facing the danger. I know you are all worried about me performing it on my own. Let me tell you this right now; there is a danger heading for us. A large beast shrouded in black clouds heading towards our homes, this kingdom, destroying everything in its path! The refugees that were brought into this large kingdom is a testament to that. As this land's appointed ruler- No, this land's rightful king- it is my duty and my sole privilege to protect this kingdom! To protect what matters most to me! To protect what keeps this kingdom alive! To protect what's most precious and important safe and well." Lincoln's voice nearly broke from what he just said, his memories welling up from within him.

 **No… not now. This nightmare must end! For me! For all of us!**

But he pushed it aside, for his tears can wait. "I swear to you all that I will stop the beast and his influence from spreading. However, I shall make a personal declaration as of this moment, for all of you." Everybody stood up a little straighter, ready to follow whatever orders are present. "I decree that every citizen of this kingdom, refugees from the other ravaged kingdoms, knights and mages of this Royal Order, members of the Royal Family, and everybody you know, from close friends to mortal enemies… must keep hope within your hearts. You must persevere! If I die when I fight the beast, then it's up to the future liege, my family… and all of you to forge a new beginning. Without hope, life within this kingdom would be meaningless! Without hope, what can you create in order to make a better future for the future generation? Without hope…" Lincoln closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath. Then he put his fist right where his heart is. "The sacrifices we have made for the betterment of all of ourselves and those close to me… would be in vain." He made a gesture towards everybody, who look astonished.

 **Because hope is what keeps us alive… What keeps my family… my real family… alive in the beyond… What has kept me alive in this world after losing so much… for so long…**

It was almost as if the people heard his thoughts. They all had a flash of empathy on their faces. Why would a king rely on his people? A few people even realized "We must not lose the foundation of strength and kindness that we have built during our time. Rather, we must focus what happens after the beast is defeated, for the world can be rid of that menace that has plagued us all!"

 **It's time… I've accepted what needs to be done…**

"If I die, know that I shall smile upon thee in the beyond. But I will return posthaste once I fulfilled the prophecy, by the name of my father, Lynn Magnus Loud!" He then unsheathed his sword and raised it high towards the ceiling.

"FOR THE GLORY OF THE KINGDOM OF MAGNA!" The king declared in a booming voice.

"FOR THE GLORY OF THE KINGDOM OF MAGNA! ALL HAIL KING LINCOLN!" Everybody followed suit with their cheers.

The aptly named Lincoln Loud ended the speech in a patriotic way, which rallied everybody who has heard. They cheered and roared with determination and fervor towards their king, ready to do what was necessary to help their liege one last time. The king then began to walk, gathering a brown leather bag, his sword, his metal shield, his goatskin water bag, and took off his kingly robes to reveal armor. Lincoln had to pack lightly.

However, as he was walking off the throne between the cheering knights, the robed man noticed ten figures standing in the left corner of his eye, towards the sidelines of the corridors. All of them were female, and many of them had different garbs and get-ups. But their faces were what nearly made Lincoln stop in his tracks.

Those were the faces of anguish.

 **No… They're not my sisters… They just have their faces and mannerisms… Ugh, I can't bother to look at them…**

He had to remind himself every damn time. Lincoln did not want to see their medieval counterparts again. There was no way he could handle it at this very moment. Before he could look at them again however, the eldest one turned around and walked, with the rest of them following. Their expressions were unreadable when they turned and walked off.

Last night, he had already made his peace with them and, as expected, he knew that they did not make theirs. I mean, he would be upset and miserable to high Heaven if he saw one of his sisters give up one of their lives for him. But this is a responsibility as part of his birthright and duty, as the only patriarch of the Royal Family… and as King.

King Lincoln was already set in his path, and he began to walk.

 **They're waiting for me… waiting in the 'heavens'… once I finish up what needs to be done. Once I tame my inner beast…**

"Your Majesty! Please hold! Hear me out!"

A familiar voice yelled out of the dying cheers of the crowd, in which everybody fell silent to. Lincoln immediately stiffened from that voice. He turned around and saw a man with black puffy afro-like hair, freckles, a black-skinned face in a suit of light armour approach him and kneel with a pleading look. Around his arm was a longbow, along with a quiver strapped to the back. Lincoln watched all this with a blank stare on his face, but internally his insides were stirring from the familiar face.

 **Clyde…?**

"Ser Clifton Mickenton? My friend, you need not bow down to me."

 **You were always with me… Clyde...**

"B-But milord! Is… Is there really no other way?"

' _ **Is there really no other way, Lincoln? You always got a plan ready, man!'**_ Something twisted within Lincoln when he heard that phrase. The Clyde lookalike that Lincoln was so used to looking at for the past 30 years in this coma bowed his head down so that his liege would not watch the archer and best friend cry.

"Tis the only way, my friend. Were it any different, I would have stayed here to watch Magna prosper under my guidance."

Silence only reigned between the two. Everybody within the throne room felt the somberness within the air around their king and his most trusted fighter.

"Your wife and twin daughters, they will miss you, Milord." Clifton urged, but Lincoln was adamant about it.

"I know. We've made our peace." Lincoln replied, shaking his head.

"What about the rest of the guard who were with you? The guardsmen would have nothing left… Ser Lyonel, Ser Zachery, and even Ser _'Rustic Justice'_ will be lost without you…" Clifton began his excuse, but Lincoln only smiled upon hearing those respective names, as they also reminded him of what the king thought he left behind.

 **Liam, Zac and Rusty Spokes… If you would see these men, you'd probably geek out on how awesome you would look as knights…**

"Ser Clifton, you know that they've grown up to become their own people. They have their wives and children to look after, even you, my dear friend." Lincoln brought the Clyde lookalike back into reality. Who would have thought that his best friend, despite being a little awkward and nerdy, would become a family man? "Besides, when I'm gone, they will listen to you when I'm not around. They can handle it. Besides, you are the Captain of the Royal Guard now."

"But… but your sisters, Your Majesty! You've spent almost 30 summers trying to win back their trust… and you're just going to leave them after everything you tried to achieve?!" The archer asked, trying to bring up some sort of anger or frustration, but Lincoln could hear how feign its tone was, how cracked the archer sounded… how tears were falling down his eyes. Clyde could never be mad at him.

"I've... talked with them already, Clifton. I've made my peace, no matter what they say or do… After all, 'nobody wants to go into battle with hanging guilt holding their potential back'." Lincoln sagely advised, wiggling his finger. It was an action that made the faux best friend raise a smile.

"Wasn't that line from our training instructor?"

"Of course! Though I personally call him a coach more than an instructor." Lincoln added his two cents smirk. Some of the knights who were also trained even added their own quips.

"Yeah, always showing off that authority and making us do extra push-ups!"

"Hey, it helped in the long run. The instructor always did have at least some interesting war stories."

"Err… you do know that some of the stories are make-believe right? Besides, they were more like fake dating stories anyway."

"Yeah. I mean, who believed that Instructor Pacarac had a 'maiden waiting for him at every corner of town'?"

"Well, would you believe that he and the schoolteacher in the School for Little Girls – I think her name was Anastasia Josselyn – are falling in love?"

The knights began to talk, almost as if training was done and they were in the mess hall talking or gossiping like little schoolgirls. Lincoln almost felt nostalgic on those names, how it paralleled Coach Pacowski and Mrs. Johnson. It was such a small world.

The talks quieted down when they realized Clifton and Lincoln were silent. The tension was thick, until Lincoln broke the ice.

"You already know this, but… I will miss those days terribly."

"Yes… Me too, Lincoln."

It wasn't every day that Lincoln would be addressed via first name by anybody in his military ranks. A tear ran down Lincoln's cheek, remembering those times when Clifton and the knight cadets would trade stories and songs of battles, legends, love and humour over a mug of beer. When Lincoln arrived however, the cadets welcomed him with open arms, treated them like one of their own rather than royalty. It made him feel like he belonged during his darkest times. Hell, that tavern they always visited became famous because they always drank there.

' _ **The Forgotten Knight…'**_ **I gotta remember that name...**

Lincoln knew that even though it wasn't Clyde at all, it still… felt like him. If Clyde went through time and looked like this, Lincoln would have believed him. It was something that couldn't be explained.

"Ser Clifton…" Lincoln muttered in his mouth, but it was enough for the grizzled black-skinned man to stand up on his two feet. His facial features that reminded him heavily of Clyde McBride, his best friend from the other side, still made him shudder. Placing a hand on the archer's shoulder, Lincoln leaned in for a brotherly hug, with Clifton immediately obliging. Then, after a good ten seconds, Lincoln made him swear to him:

"Swear to me, friend. That you'll protect the citizens of Magna… to fight for the hopes and dreams of our people… and to tolerate no injustice.

"I will… Lincoln…"

" _ **You'll always be my best friend, Lincoln…"**_

 **.o0o.**

15 minutes later, many townsfolk finally saw their king walking out of the palace, without Ser Clifton or any of his most trusted guardsmen, which confused them. He never walked without his guard, as Lincoln and many of the knights were loyal to each other, to the point of them being best friends. But watching their king, so determined into walking into battle, having a grave expression, finally ready to perform the duty that he was assigned to do…

It scared everybody, no doubt. But he said their kingdom would be safe as long as they do not give up hope.

It scared Lincoln too. He can't help but be scared. It was human nature to be scared. Even though he was a brave, strong, intelligent and wise king, he was still Lincoln Loud, the 11-year-old boy who can qualify for leadership under his belt, and can think of solutions right in a desperate time. He was also Lincoln Loud, the timid and scared boy who was afraid of the pain, from what the world was throwing at him after what has _happened_ that made him turn into… this. Hell, seeing the illusionary best friend he has been hanging out with say farewell and treasuring all the memories they both shared…

Alongside the forger who trained him in becoming hard-working...

Or the farmers who have raised him from his lowest point…

Or the merchants who taught him responsibility…

Or the orphaned children, now adopted into families, in the public schools who reminded the king of his lost innocence…

Or the nobles who once sneered at him for his past mistakes, as they now look at him with genuine care, to remind him that the world is not a completely terrifying place…

Or the dead, those most precious to him, constantly reminding him of what he lost…

Or his family…

 **My family...**

Lincoln hardened his expression. He ran away from this pain, but now he has to accept it. But sooner or later, he would have to face them. As fate would deem it so, he began to approach the city gates. Lincoln could never mistake the ten figures stood before him. He remembered their angry faces from long ago…

...and how they twisted into pain and anguish long afterwards.

Lincoln stood before them, as nostalgia began to hit him hard. He kept a straight face, yet the turmoil within would overflow any second. Letting out a sigh, he repeated a question under his breath; a question that haunted him for days in reality, and years in this dream.

" _Why did this have to happen to me?"_

 **.o0o.**

In a closet-sized room, a boy with white hair, blue jeans and an orange polo shirt laid down on his bed. His room was rather spartan, only having a small desk with a chair, a shelf to organize all of his Ace Savvy comics and other books, and a pristine bedroom wall above his bed to hang posters on. Today, however, he was not interested in dealing with any of his interests. He wasn't feeling happy from past events to even consider using them.

They were all trifles to him anyway. His description of his room was only taken to face value. It may have sounded like it was a dream come true, however...

The wall had holes on them, indicating that somebody punched holes through it.

The posters had rips, tears and crinkles in it. One particular poster which had the signature of the creator of Ace Savvy was torn apart and ripped in half.

The desk looked like it has been in the junkyard, as there are parts of it where the wood was clawed and scratched on. There were even some dried sofa stains on it, giving off a smell that would give somebody Hepatitis.

Many of his comics were torn apart. If one would look hard, one set of comics looked ripped, but the other set of comics looked like they were clawed and shredded apart.

His bed lacked any blanket, sheets or pillow, rather it was just a mattress with a wooden structure holding it in place.

His stuffed bunny, Bun-Bun, was missing an arm, and had its stuffing removed.

This was what his room looked like on the inside. Lincoln didn't have the resolve or the energy to move out of his room, yet the holes in the wall and the rest of the mess reminded him on what happened. How life was shoving painful event after painful event.

It made him want to throw up, as he unconscious lifted his left arm to his forehead.

 _ **Bonk!**_

Oh right. "Ugh… right. I forgot about you..." Lincoln grimaced, as he looked at his left forearm and wrist, all wrapped in a white bandaged ceramic cast. He had this on for the past week, and it looked like it was going to be on the verge of healing. He then felt some phantom pain in his right leg. The white-haired boy felt the gauze bandage on his knee, and it stung more than bee stings. He really felt like shit.

' _Goddammit_ … _It's no wonder I ended up like this… To think I loved them, yet they never loved me back. Why do they not love me? What kind of family is this?'_ His thoughts raged on and on, contrasting to the calm and apathetic demeanor on his face. The 11-year-old asked himself countless amount of times ever since _that_ family incident.

Who couldn't forget those 'family incidents'? Well, it could be just an incident to some, but to Lincoln, it was considered terminal abuse. His face twisted in pain and rage as he recalled the events.

The first one happened two months ago. It was the large family fight within the home with all 10 sisters fighting each other, which brought it into a DEFCON 5 situation. Lincoln tried his best to calm his sisters and come up with a solution to stop the fight, but it only grew larger. So he was kicked out of the house in order for the fight to stop, since every single room, even his bedroom, were battlegrounds for them. He had no choice but to stay with Clyde, who at least helped with talking with him.

" _They just kept going and going, Clyde! What do I do?! This can't go on!"_

" _Calm down, Lincoln. Look, maybe you should give them some space. It'll probably cool down after a few hours."_

" _I… I guess. Doesn't mean I have to like it though. I just want my room back."_

However, once he came back, he realized that the fighting was resolved because of his lack of interference. Once he left, Lori actually was the one who calmed them all down and talk it over. Now, just by looking at them, Lincoln knew he was singled out, when his ten sisters chided and scolded him for trying to bud in. Those remarks blew a gasket within him. Lincoln would have given them a piece of his mind, if not for his parents stepping in.

" _What do you mean, I'm also getting punished?! All I did was-!"_

" _Yes, we know you're frustrated over this entire ordeal, but at the same time, the way you were shouting was not any better either._

That nearly brought him over the edge, but his parents firmly, yet offhandedly, told him to hold it in if he has to, as if it was nothing happened. The sisters snickered a little, but Rita and Lynn Sr. turned around with their own incensed eyes, indicating trouble.

The rest of the house was repaired thanks to the sisters, which did not take very long. Although it did not give Lincoln any sort of satisfaction. It only fueled some sort of passive aggressiveness within him. The boy would, of course, not help her sisters. However, some of them would try to get at Lincoln while doing their own fix-ups. One time, a lone Lola was trying to repaint the top portion of the newly refurbished wall using the highest step of a ladder, and she noticed that Lincoln was walking by, hands in his pockets. Feeling spiteful about her what transpired before, she poured her paint tray on top of Lincoln. The yellow paint smudged on his shirt, ruining it, and Lola just laughed at him, like she accomplished something. However, she didn't notice how unresponsive Lincoln was, which would offput many who would have been watching. Instead, Lincoln kicked the ladder down, with Lola on it. Lincoln still had his blank face when he saw Lola break her shin, and added insult to injury, nudged a large vase, toppling it over her arm.

It would have freaked out many, but Lincoln found the scream of Lola to be 'music to his ears'. It was like a voice was trying to tempt him into continuing. Lincoln shook his head,

However, the good times had to end sometime. It was only a good two weeks later when everything nose-dived at its lowest point.

The days in which Lincoln was considered bad luck to his family were not fun at all. Wearing a squirrel suit was not fun at all. Being teased and harassed and only cared for as some sort of item was definitely not fun at all.

And that inner voice only got even stronger and louder.

" _Luna…"_

" _Dude! Why're you taking it off?! Put it back on!"_

" _But I was just trying to get some water!"_

" _Linc! Do you want us to die?!"_

" _..."_

" _WELL?!"_

' _ **Hmph… Maybe I do want you to die!'**_

" _Maybe I do want you to die! I HATE YOU!"_

That conversation did not end well. Lincoln cringed on the bed from what happened afterwards.

However, the entire fight and argument was stopped by a timely Pop-pop, Lincoln's grandfather. He gave the biggest scolding Lincoln has ever seen towards his family for putting him into such a humiliating situation. His family, even his parents, were stunned and ashamed for taking part of what happened minutes later. Immediately they went to Lincoln, now out of the squirrel suit, however, he was not having any of that.

" _Lincoln, please! Just-."_

" _Let go of me, Lynn. You're not getting anything from me. Ever!"_

" _Cmon, bro, we're so-!"_

" _What gives you the right to even apologize, Lana?! What happened to 'put on the suit AND die', huh!?"_

" _Lincoln, we-!"_

" _Shut up, Luan! You think you're so funny with those stupid stunts of yours, don't you?! Well, it's not going to_ _ **fucking**_ _save you now,_ _ **dammit!**_ _!"_

 _ **GASP!**_

" _Lincy, you…"_

" _You heard me, Leni. I don't give a flying_ _ **shit**_ _about you people anymore! You always act like I'm your little punching bag!"_

" _Lincoln! That's enough, you'll-!"_

" _You'll what,_ _ **Lynn**_ _? What'll you do to stop me?! Renounce me as your son? Cut off one of my fingers?_ _ **Fucking KILL ME?!**_ _"_

" _Big brother, we just want to-!"_

" _Stop calling me that, you gothic, wrist-cutting_ _ **bitch**_ _! All of you are freaking_ _ **DEAD TO ME**_ _! Tear your own throats out if you want!"_

" _Lincy, no!"_

" _ **Don't try to stop me!"**_

" _Don't try to stop me! If I wanted you to_ _ **fucking**_ _die, then you all could have just_ _ **fucking**_ _said so!"_

" _Lincoln! How dare you! You'll march back here and-!"_

" _And what? Don't forget,_ _ **you whore**_ _, I'm this close to calling child services on you. And I have a lot to tell..."_

" _You wouldn't, Lincoln..."_

" _ **TRY ME THEN!"**_

They made no attempt to anger him even more. Nobody wanted to contest that. Lincoln knew very well that he had more than enough dirt on his entire family at this point, and his finger was theoretically on the telephone. The ostracization between Lincoln and his sisters was more than apparent, like how Lincoln had to cover for his sisters' problems, or doing their chores for them without any thanks, and more.

The workload and 'love' that was shone would be been exactly the same kind as a slave. Non-existent.

At this point, the inner voice became prominent and noticeable. It sounded like a growling monstrosity, and Lincoln was initially freaked out by this. However, it only wanted to talk.

' _ **No one will listen… You're all alone…'**_

" _No! I have Clyde! I have Ronnie Anne! I…"_

' _ **Fool… They don't understand your plight…'**_

" _But…"_

' _ **Listen… all you need… is yourself, and your own strength.'**_

" _..."_

' _ **You can listen to me instead… Lincoln… Then you would not have to worry about your fears and worries… ever… again.'**_

" _But… I…"_

" _ **RAAAAAAUGH! YOU FOOL! THERE YOU GO AGAIN! ALWAYS SO FEEBLE-MINDED AND COWARDLY!"**_

" _Ahhh!"_

" _ **YOUR OPPONENTS WON'T WAIT FOR YOU! EVERYBODY WILL LEAVE YOU ON THE GROUND! MAKE THEM RUE THE DAY THEY PUSHED YOU! MAKE THEM PAY!"**_

" _..."_

" _ **..."**_

" _...God, you're noisy…"_

" _ **...Hmph… It's your choice, Lincoln… but the torment will only continue if you won't change who you are…"**_

Lincoln closed his eyes. He really hated his memories now. They were full of pain and sadness. He hated sadness. He abhorred the feeling of weakness. He needed strength to take down his enemies.

And everybody was beginning to act like his enemy nowadays…

" _Why did this have to happen to me?"_


	2. Chapter 1

' _Ughhh…'_

Lincoln felt himself stir. Darkness swam within his vision. He never felt this comfortable in weeks and it felt like he was drifting alongside the pillowy clouds. But even all that comfort, there was some sort of lurking pain within him.

Not physical pain and aches. Those were all over his body. No, Lincoln was thinking of emotional pain. Regret, sadness and, worst of all, anger, because he remembered. It all hit him like a truck, from the words to the physical pain, and it made him tremble out of fear. It was not towards the ones who caused him pain however…

It was himself. He was angry towards himself, scared of himself, and remorseful on how he acted. To think every single atrocious thing that he has done to them in the span of five weeks, just to get back at what they have done to him in a span of three weeks. To his credit, many would think that would have been any normal human being's reaction if they were pushed over the edge many times over, but it didn't matter. He did this not only to his sisters… but to his parents as well. His own family… and he hates that so much. He hated what happened so much…

Lincoln hated himself so much...

He mentally shook it off however, hopefully to think and suffer about it for another day. It was because of how soft the beddings were. I mean, he never felt so comfortable in quite a while, with actual beddings on top and below his body. A cooling sensation was felt on his head He unconsciously snuggled in the covers, never wanting to leave. It feels like a cocoon awaiting his awakening as a beautiful butterfly.

"Wait! Did he…?"

"Why yes! He doth stir! Hurry, get the others!"

"Right. Watch him for me and whatever you do, keep healing him. "

"Yes! ...Please wake up…"

Voices? It was strange, he was not familiar with those whispering voices. The first one sounded male and pompous, yet cool, serious and composing, while the other male voice had a lot of sincerity and unsophistication. Keeping his eyes closed and his movements still, he tried to listen in, hoping to get any keywords that popped up. Soon, a creaking sound was heard and Lincoln heard more footsteps approach.

"Oi! About freakin' time! Is it true!? Is he finally-!?" One of the new voice in a light male Scottish accent asked, in an amazed manner, but was immediately shushed.

"SHH! Not so loud! You're giving us all a headache from your incessant shouting!" The second new voice scolded the first, in a whispery tone. This time it was female, having a sort of motherly air to it.

"Oh! Sorry…!" The Irish voice apologized. However, some creaking was heard followed by the sound of metal hitting the ground. Instantly, everybody hushed up again, hoping they didn't wake their bedridden boy up, but Lincoln didn't react on the outside. His heart jumped just as high as the recipients of those four voices.

"Honestly, you're the clumsiest out of the four of us that serve him." The cool voice sighed. Lincoln mentally took note of the "serving" aspect.

"Look, I said I'm sorry, okay? See, from that wee noise I made, he isn't waking up."

"What?! He's not? Oh dear Lo-!" The playful voice immediately cried out, but his voice immediately stopped. Lincoln could hear the struggle in the playful voice's muffles.

"You idiots done shouting?" The cool one asked, with a bit of an edge in his voice.

"Mm-hm."

"Well, keep quiet…!" The female voice gently reminded the others. "The poor boy needs bedrest after everything that has happened." Lincoln felt a soft, tender hand, caressing his cheek. He could feel the sorrow from just the touch alone. "It's depressing that we're the only four servants left that would even wish to continue serving our lord…"

Lincoln's attention rose at the mention of "lord" and "servants". Who is this… lord that these servants were talking about? Where exactly is he now? Lincoln also took note of the beddings. It wasn't just soft, it was also fuzzy. So through deduction, Lincoln was either on tattered beddings with mold growing all around the place (which does not seem like the case) or…

...he was sleeping in a bed made from animal fur.

"Aye...it's only been three days and everybody's riled up from it." The Scottish voice turned somber, almost as if he, alongside everybody in the room sans Lincoln, were reliving memories. Lincoln had to tune into this one.

"The sad part is that the citizens are not completely at fault…" The cool one's voice turned despondent. "

"Damnit… why can't the people see that Lincoln here is a good young lad? They think he's to blame for the slaughter, but nobody has any wee proof of this!" The Scottish man ranted, going on a tirade about said slaughter. Lincoln tried to zero in on this "slaughter", but the rant was going too fast.

"Enough, Sir Charlie." The cool voice cut the Scottish man off, named Charlie. "I've already said that it's not the people's fault either. They're just… scared."

"Scared of what, Walter? I just-." Charlie began his excuse, but Walter, the owner of the cool-acting voice, cut him off again.

"Sir Charlie! You can't deny-!"

"Hush, Walter!" The female voice shushed Walter rather harshly.

"Er, uhh! So sorry… madame…" Walter, his composure calmed, apologized, then went back to Charlie. "You can't deny what has happened a year and a half ago. How our lord's demeanor and attitude changed drastically. How… angry, bloodthirsty and dismissive he has become."

"...That doesn't mean I like it, Walter."

"I know. I don't like it either." From that, their two-way conversation ended, and Lincoln felt remorseful from what happened.

"I really do miss him being happy over having fun, Claudia…" Another conversation began, between the owner of the cheery voice and the female voice, who was apparently named Claudia.

"I know… I do too, George… I always did request that his father not be so hard on him, and look what happens..." Claudia sniffled, sounding like she was about to cry. Lincoln would have woken up from his 'sleep' and consoled her, but he had to stay prone and unconscious. Apparently from what he gathered, their lord turned bloodthirsty and caused a slaughter in a span of a year and a half. For the time being, the ashen-haired boy hoped to stay away from him from the time being.

He sounded like a jerk anyway. I mean, who would want to meet someone like that?

"Don't worry, Claudia. After all, who knows how our lord and Prince Lincoln would act when he wakes up?" George offhandedly remarked, which made a humming sound from Claudia, Walter and Charlie.

' _Hmm that is a good question…''_ Lincoln thought, as he also wondered what sort of person was Prince Lincoln was like when-

Wait. _**Prince Lincoln?**_

"Oh, maybe he would change back into the sweet nurturing boy he once was!" Claudia said sweetly, swooning over the past.

"Maybe he can clean up after himself this time?" Walter denoted, with a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"I just hope our lord isn't still mean and bloodthirsty, ordering and killing people around like that…" George reminisced, something that made Lincoln twitch with horror.

 _ **Lord? Bloodthirsty? Killing people?!**_

"Oi! Ya know that the killing part isn't true yet, ya hear me, George?! For all we know, some assassins might hear us and want the Prince dead!" Charlie barked, and that made Lincoln jump from shock.

 _ **K-K-K-K-K-K-**_

"KILLED?!" Lincoln bolted up without warning from the prospect of getting himself killed. He felt cold sweat on his neck, as everybody gasped in surprise. Unfortunately, Lincoln was so scared shitless, he did not notice his surroundings a few seconds later. Looking around, he hoped to see a bed with actual sheets, pillows and Ace Savvy-themed blankets, but instead he yelped that he was actually sleeping on an _actual_ bed made of animal furs.

"AHHH!"

Lincoln looked up, hopefully to get some semblance of the world around him, only to meet the head of a bear, staring back at him.

"AHHHHH!"

Thankfully, it was mounted on the wall; the bear only had its teeth showing alongside its lifeless eyes. However, when he turned around...

"AHHHHHHHH!"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Lincoln screamed frightfully at the four people who were there. The four servants also screamed in response. It lasted for around five seconds, and then an awkward silence came afterwards; Lincoln because of the sudden change of scenery and the strangers standing across from him, and the other four because of the shock that they have experienced. But before they could ascertain anything, Lincoln rolled his eyes to the back of his head…

… and promptly fell back onto the bed.

"Aieee! He fainted again!"

 **.o0o.**

 _The end of the school day was just like any other day in the Loud House. Quiet, tense and unnaturally gloomy._

 _What? You saying that this isn't how the infamous Loud House functions? Well, naturally and routine-wise, you would probably call one crazy for even thinking that. However, after the blowup about being bad luck, those were the prime characteristics of what the Loud House is today. It's quite the oxymoron, wouldn't you say?_

 _Many of the neighbours, while silently thankful that the Loud House wasn't causing any more ruckus, could not say it was welcoming at the slightest. It's the house is a cage holding a dangerous creature, and everyone was scared that it will be released to kill them. One could wonder whether or not they prefer the old, rambunctious and disruptive Loud House, or this new one, where it made the neighbourhood tense. They probably would never admit their answers..._

 _Lincoln could only give an exasperated sigh. He could hear many of the activities of the Loud family going on behind the door, and here he was, sitting on his bed again. It was like this for most of the day: go to school, go back home and straight to the bed. Routine stuff. His 'sisters' and 'parents'…_

 _God, just spitting it out in his head made his mouth give off a bitter aftertaste._

 _He remembers them beginning their routinely things when he heard the doors open. However, not a lot of energetic noise was present. It was almost as if that certain spark was lost, like they lost the heart to really enjoy their daily activities because of what happened yesterday._

 _It didn't deter Lincoln at all. In fact, he welcomed the peace and quiet, something that came once in a blue moon. He needed it…_

 _The ashen-haired boy looked around his room. His gloomy apathetic eyes looked around the bedroom. It was as if everything seemed to be in order. Clothes, posters, desk, bookshelf-._

 _Lincoln paused at the bookshelf. Within the stacks of comics that were neatly ordered from first issue to the last one at one of the ends, a hardcover book stood out to him from the stack. Giving it a hard look, he realized it was a fairy tale book. "A pretty famous one at that," quoted Mrs. Johnson, his homeroom teacher. Lincoln thought as he continued to stare at it. He remembered that it was Monday and that it was for a book report due in a month and a half from now. Due to some… "outside interference"... he was the one who got the last book on the list._

 _Many would consider what he has been forced to choose boring and archaic, but to Lincoln, it had a bit of mysterious attraction for some reason. Getting off from his bed, he reached over and grabbed it, looking at the front cover and reading it out loud._

" _ **King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table…?"**_ _He recited, legitimately curious. It had everything an imaginative little boy would enjoy reading: knights, princesses, huge epic battles, swords, shields, royalty, adventure…_

 _Oh well, what's the worst that can happen?_

 _Opening the book, Lincoln relaxed himself, sat back down on his bed and began to read._

 **.o0o.**

"Ughhh…"

Lincoln groaned as his eyes spiraled back and forth in circles. His muscles began to gain feeling once more as he twitched and moved. Finally, he began to open his eyes, hoping to whatever God was out there that the nightmare was over.

"Ah! He's awake! Again! The young prince is awake! Again!"

"He is?! Again?! Cheers!"

Lincoln only stiffened from the confirmation that it was not a dream at all. Turning his head around, he can only watch as two men, one tall and bulky and one short and thin, jumped around and danced with brimming joy like giant rabbits finding a motherlode of carrots. Their arms were linked together as if they were hugging, and Lincoln only heard cheers from the bumbling men, who were honestly making a lot of noise from shaking the floorboards.

Lincoln only watched them in complete confusion. One of them was a large muscular mountain of a man, having bare muscular arms bulging out, and a puffed chest. The only sorts of attire he had on were a thick chainmail without the sleeves, some chain leggings around his brawny legs, brown combat boots, and undergarments. Messy bunches of white hair decorated his wiry form: on his head, forearms, face (in the form of a mustache and braided beard) and a little bit poking out of the chest area. The most notable aspect however, was the black eyepatch over his left eye. His face looked gruff, but the large smile and the tears forming in his large eye says otherwise. It kind of reminded Lincoln of an old Scottish man.

The other man is actually short, yet had a large smile on his face. Compared to the large man's muscular form, this one was more thinner and shorter. Actually, now that Lincoln looks closer, the short man looked rather young, maybe around a few years older than Lincoln. The features that he had was the brown hair on his head and the tiny black eyes. He had a brown vest, neatly tied up in brown string and tied with a brown strap, with yellow cuffed garments underneath. He also had a beige leggings and black boot. All of that was covered up into a brown friar robe that was left open, which made him look like a priest or low-ranking cleric. The look of his face was incredibly jolly and innocent, indicating that this man was young, a little naive, and possibly religious.

Lincoln could only stare at them. Who were these people? Something within him wanted to well up, but he didn't know what it was. It also did not help that both men were now looking at him with happiness.

"Lord Lincoln! You're finally awake, alive and well! We were so worried that you would have been snoozin' forever! Oh, it brings tears to my eyes…" The old Scottish brute bellowed with happiness, tears about to well up from his eyes, and a wide smile stretched across his face, showing his many disjointed teeth. Sniffing, he grabbed a handkerchief from behind him and wiped his tear ducts before tears leaked out. "...and this time I'm not afraid to admit it!"

"Ohhh, praise be! The young prince has awoken! Praise be! Praise be!" The priest raised and dropped his hands, almost like religious bowing, tears in his eyes as well. "I knew my God would not fail me! I knew I made the right choice!"

Lincoln couldn't say anything as he was watched the two men bawl their eyes out. What could he say? Apparently, for some reason, they knew him as their 'lord' or 'prince of this kingdom'. He really did not want to offend them in any way possible in terms of insults, but he had to get across that he isn't a prince nor a lord of any kind. "Uhh…" He only began, but the door slammed open, and what looks like a young frilly maid ran in, looking frantic.

"He's awake?! Sir Charlie! George! Is thy prince awake?!" She exclaimed in surprise, until her eyes locked on Lincoln himself, who stiffened a little for being the center of attention. The maid in question looked rather beautiful, having beautiful long raven-coloured hair. The attire was more standard to a maid: black dress, with a white apron, beige bandana, white stockings and black shoes. Her nose is small, and her lips were supple, but her eyes gave a sense of love and care as tears ran down her cheeks. "Lincoln!" She cried out, and launched herself into a bear hug, easily knocking over the large knight, aptly named Charlie, and the young robed priest named George. "Oh, thank goodness you've awoken! I would've been drinking cold homemade mushroom soup without my lord!"

"Oi! Calm yourself, Claudia! You're going to suffocate the prince before he even had his first meal in ages!"

Lincoln had to admit; he was not used to the clinginess that was this woman, who was certainly not listening to the overbearing Scottish knight. George also began to sniffle a little, as he joined in the big friendly hug. The maid then quickly broke off the hug.

"Oh! That's right! We must get you some food! Quickly, we can get him some of his favourite meat porridge stew that Prince Lincoln oh so adores!" The maid named Claudia exclaimed, but before she can leave a trail of dust, the door opened and a tray along with a blond-haired man walked in.

"There is no need for that, Miss. Claudia." The well-dressed butler reassured, as he placed the tray on the little table beside the bed. By the looks of it, Lincoln was drooling at the sight of the beef, vegetable and barley stew. "I have already made a batch, specifically for the young prince. He will be up at no time." The butler replied in a cool, sophisticated, yet pompous and reassuring tone. Lincoln took a closer look at his features. The butler in question looked like he was in his early twenties, with smooth skin and a fair body build on muscle. He had a small thin mustache on the top of his stiff upper lip, and his blonde hair was combed back. Thin glasses adorned his face and his attire had a red butler's coat, a yellow vest lining underneath, a cravat, yellow pants, socks and red shoes. What caught Lincoln's attention was that his eyebrows were always furrowed, almost as if he was cross with the ones he looks at. He had the perfect posture and attire for a butler, something Lincoln has never seen in real life before. Before he really thought any further, the man walks up to Lincoln's bed, placed his right hand on his left pec, and bowed. "Young Prince, I bring thee a late lunch, courtesy of myself and Miss Claudia here." The man smiled politely at him, which was only met with silence from Lincoln himself.

"Oi! How come you haven't saved any for us?! We're hungry too, you know!" Charlie snapped at Walter, who further furrowed his eyebrows (something that sounds impossible despite how furrowed they were). Claudia just narrowed her eyes at Charlie for saying something rude to Walter, and George was worried it was going to turn into another spat.

"Well, it's a meal, fit for thy prince, and only thy prince." Walter replied, in his cool manner. Charlie only had his jaw drop.

"B-But… it smells so heavenly…" The large bodybuilder of a man drooped his head and arms, his salivating tongue mourning at the loss of the taste and nutritiousness of beef, veggie and barley stew.

"Well then…" Walter, the butler, turned to Lincoln, who was still silent. "Lord Lincoln, please eat the stew before it gets cold. We wouldn't wish to waste it for Sir Charlie to have, right?"

Instantly, Charlie raised his head, a joking smile on his face. "Hahah! Well, he better start eating it then! I'm so hungry, even a full boar can't fill me up!" The large aged warrior laughed heartily, gaining a brief smile from the other servants, sans Lincoln, still not reacting to any of this.

"Both of them are right, Lincoln. Please eat. You haven't eaten in three straight days." Claudia, the maid, reassured to Lincoln, rubbing his back. However, no response was generated, as he was still silent.

"C'mon, Lincoln! Up and at'em!" George, the young friar, said in a bubbly fashion. Still, Lincoln wasn't able to generate a response. Even after everything that has happened, he didn't move. He just stared at the four servants who were acting like they were family to him… What could he say to them?

And for some reason, the silence began to unsettle the four of them. All four of them lost their own smiles, twisting into expressions that imitated Lincoln when he watched the Harvester his first time. It was if all four of them remembered, and about to relive a horrible, tragic memory...

Lincoln was wondering if he had done something wrong, maybe antagonize them. He hasn't even thanked the four strangers yet, and now he's acting like a horrid guest. Yet still, it intrigued him. Even Charlie had a frightened look on his face; one who normally is brave, fiery, courageous and headstrong suddenly backing away with a panicking expression… There was something definitely wrong.

"Umm… Lord Lincoln? Have we…?" George began to shake in fear, a large contrast to his bubbly self. A reason for shaking was unknown to Lincoln.

"P-Please milord, have mercy…" Claudia whispered in horror. Tears began to well from her eyes.

"M-Milord… is the soup not adequate for you? Please tell me, and I shall arrange for another dish of your choice. J-Just please… don't hurt us..." Walter, being the most composed yet still showing signs of panic, politely stated. He bowed down to show that sincerity, but nobody missed the tremble in his hand and the small whimper that came out of his lips.

That snapped Lincoln out of his reverie. The words 'please… don't hurt us…' rang thousands of deathly church bells within his mind.

' _ **Mercy…'**_

' _ **Lincoln…'**_

' _ **Please… don't hurt us…'**_

"No! No! I would never hurt you!" Lincoln quickly blurted out, needing to get that answer across. He did not know who these strange people were, but having them being afraid of him is not the way to go about it.

Not after what happened.

Thankfully the tension disappeared and everybody let out the breath they never realized they were holding. They still had a couple of shudders but they could recover. It was just a memory after all.

"Ehh, so... why didn't you speak up about it?" Charlie asked, a little worried about how this turn of events was going to unfold. Nobody knew what to expect, Lincoln especially, feeling afraid. Although the fear still lingered, the four servants' concerns, confusions, fears and anticipations killing them from the inside.

"W-Well… I-I just…" Lincoln began, lowering his head and twiddling his thumbs. "I-I…W-Who..." All four servants craned their heads towards him a little closer. However, none of them expected the ashen-haired boy to mutter the next four words:

"Who are you people?"

 **.o0o.**

The clacking of shoes echoed through the halls as a maidservant quickly trekked through the halls. The castle was looking ornate as a few other servants were donning aprons and cleaning or dusting the walls and floors. Dodging around them, the hurrying maidservant stopped at a door and, before correcting his posture, cleared her throat.

"Milady! I've come bearing news that you must lend your ears to." She politely declared. However, she was met with silence.

"Uhmm milady? Are you troubled? May I come in?" The maidservant asked to the recipient behind the door. Again, there was silence. Sighing to herself, the maidservant took measures into her own hands and opened the door.

The room looked a lot more luxurious than the standard rooms that were for the other residents in the castle. Paintings, treasures and jewelry were on the walls, or displayed on cupboards. The tiles were clean and smooth, compared to the wooden floors in the other floors. A clear view was shown outside, complete with the sunbeams shining down. Whoever it was shining down upon, had a black dress and headdress, lying on the large king-sized bed, grieving and mourning with her head on the sheets.

"My queen…" The maidservant bowed her head, hopefully not disrespecting her space. "Forgive me for entering but I have two pieces of urgent news that you must hear about." Initially she got no response, but a few seconds later, a sniffle was heard and the aforementioned queen, garbed in black funeral attire, sat up straight. Turning her head slightly, the maidservant saw her left cheek stained completely in tear tracks.

"..." The queen had no response, signaling the maid to elicit her news. So clearing her throat, she dropped her first bombshell without hesitation or anticipation.

"Prince Lincoln has woken up, milady." She said.

The queen, hearing the news, nearly went a little slack. A small gasp erupted from the mourning woman. The maidservant couldn't decipher her reaction so instead, she dropped the second bombshell.

"Also, his four retainers have stated that he has completely lost his memory. He has no recollection of anything."

That made the queen jolt upwards. The maidservant could only watch, unable to read the emotions the queen had. It was best not to disturb her any longer.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, milady. The rest of the castle has been informed. I bid you good day." She bowed and left, closing the door gently, hoping that the queen wasn't angry.

Contrary to that belief, the queen… well, she didn't know what to feel. Many emotions began to well up from within her fractured confused heart, to the point where she began to shake. Fresh new tears fell down her cheeks. She didn't know what to think or feel about this.

She just... felt.


	3. Chapter 2

_It was a rarity that the Loud House was not running with its usual chaotic shtick. Usually, Lincoln would hear the noise and the chaos blasting around in the house: Luna rocking out with her guitar plugged into amplifiers, Lisa procuring accidental explosions from her scientific chemical experiments, Lori talking on her cell phone, Lynn running around 'practicing her athletics in the house', Lola and Lana arguing and fighting up a storm like usual…_

 _Lincoln cursed to himself, something he did not have the guts to do in front of others. He really did not mean to bring up the fighting. Yesterday, it was a literal brawl in the family; all his sisters fighting massively, almost wrecking the entire house, including many of their bedrooms, and his room even though he wanted no part in the fight, and only wished them to stop so the peace would finally come back. Only for the entire Sister Fight Protocol to nearly turn on him in an instant._

 _He didn't even know what the Protocol was, what his part was in it, and why he was the only one who did not know about it. All he knew and remembered was that he tried to resolve the situation peacefully, which unintentionally caused more harm than good, was quarantined out of the safe zones, dragged into their petty unwanted fights, and pretty much kicked out of his house. And then his ten sisters had the nerve for blaming him for the entire outcome, and while his parents severely punished his sisters, they punished him for one little outburst! Even though his mom and dad stated that they understood why he did that, it still made him feel like a target of abuse._

 _Like an outcast, many would say. It was something Lincoln did not want from the bottom of his heart. He wished to feel loved, or at the very least, feel like he belonged in his family. Nowadays, situations like these began to become more discouraging, like Lincoln was being taken advantage of, especially when it came from him trying to help out or solve situations caused or brought by his sisters. They would quickly use him as a scapegoat for the failure, even for problems that he had no part of, hence the Sister Fight Protocol. Even his parents would sometimes believe his sisters over him, even when his sisters were clearly in the wrong. So with the evidence laid out, why should the brother even bother to help them out if he wouldn't get a benefit out of it?_

 _The ashen-haired boy shuffled on his bed, uncomfortable about his current thought process. It was his first time thinking about this kind of thing. Thinking of the negatives really bothered him, so he swapped to the other side of the spectrum: the positive things that his sisters have done for him, like how they helped him with many of his social problems or even talked to him about girls (albeit poorly, but at least he scored one). Not only that, but Lincoln had to remember his selfish moments, where he took advantage of his sisters' hospitality and charity. So in essence, he can be just as bad as his sisters if pushed._

 _So what should he do to help the situation? Be the bigger man, as they call it, and take it? Or grow a spine and distant towards them?_

 _Is it right to continue what essentially is his identity? Or should he change?_

' _I can't think like this…' Lincoln suddenly got up, having a very pensive sneer on his face. He really needed space from what happened yesterday. He needed some fresh air; out of the environment he calls his room in a home. Grabbing his usual orange polo and blue jeans, he opened the door…_

 _...only to have met an indifferent, yet focused Lori, wearing a house-cleaning bandana, apron, brushes, trays and cans of paint and wallpaper paste, brushing a nice new coat on the walls._

' _Oh right…' Lincoln almost forgot. The severe punishment for them was that they will be the ones to repair and refurbish the entire house under the supervision of Rita and Lynn Sr. The stipulations would be that each sister would be banned from their hobbies and devices for a good month while they work, paint, clean, repair and refurbish the entire house, only relaxing during the nighttime and meal time. By the looks and sounds of it, Lori was the only one inside the house doing the interior repairs. His parents and the rest of the sisters were most likely either outside or in the lower levels of the house. Right now, it looked like Lori was brushing away at the walls with tired eyes, until she turned her head, noticing her brother dressed and ready to head out._

 _Lincoln only stared back with uninterested eyes, stopping her brushing. Her expression looked bored and uninterested, but within her eyes Lincoln could see more emotions swirling within her. It looked like hidden irritation, frustration and tiredness, aimed towards himself. Guessing it was about the Sister Fight Protocol and their punishment, Lincoln's scowl drooped a little more, his eyes looking dully at her._

" _The walls aren't going to refurbish themselves, Lori." Lincoln asked, fully intent on Lori to continue her brush job. There wasn't any hint or intention of being smug about it, but there was a slight hiss when the ashen-haired boy mentioned his sister's name. Lori, unfortunately with her crankiness, only glared harshly at him, as she set the brush down on the tray._

" _Shouldn't you be getting out of here or something?" She frustratingly replied, the crease on her brow furrowing even more. "Go play with Clyde or read comics or something."_

" _I would visit Clyde if I wanted to, but reading comics? Seriously? Don't you remember?" Lincoln shot back to Lori, his words having a bit of an edge to it. Then he moved out of the doorway…_

 _...revealing his room's true condition. A literal pigsty ripped apart by a sister hurricane gone mad. His bed was in tatters, the walls have circular cracks, almost as if somebody punched them, most of his comics were torn to shreds along with many other precious and priceless items Lincoln had within his room, and even his book report in his backpack was to the point of disrepair._

" _You know I can't. All because of you, Lori."_

 _Lincoln reminded, with a calm, yet eerie voice, which made Lori turn her head and shuddered a little. That was a memory she wished that she forgot, but Lynn Sr. not only chewed her out for it, but gnawed and ripped apart as well. Sure, Lori is going to have help from the younger ones, but she was placed solely responsible for the destruction. Now she, along with the other sisters, had to fix everything in Lincoln's room, along with re-buying the irreplaceable, like the comics and posters._

 _And let me tell you, autographs are not easy to come by._

" _So how are you going to fix this?" Lincoln continued, with Lori, who turned her head towards the wall, her eyes and expression hidden. Maybe he just wanted to hear Lori's honest answer to the entire situation. Or maybe he wanted to see if she would crack. Lori's only response was just a tired grunt. "What?! You think I would just let you go off scot-free?"_

" _..." The response that he got was silence, but Lincoln kept pressing on._

" _What in the world impelled you to destroy everything in my room? What compelled you to even fight over a dress?! What is going through that mind of yours, Lori?!" The ashen-haired boy, through his raising voice and increasing anger, demanded to know why she did what she did. Was it through anger against him? Against Leni at the time? How would he know if she didn't tell him?_

" _..."_

" _This isn't hypothetically, Lori. Tell me!"_

" _...Shut up…"_

" _What did you say?"_

" _I SAID SHUT UP!" The eldest suddenly screamed at Lincoln, who jumped back from surprise. He was only expecting a heartfelt apology, but instead, it was an unexpected, yet angered response backed up by her frustration. "CAN'T YOU JUST SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH FOR A MEASLY MINUTE, YOU BRAT!?" Lori heaved her words out, breath after breath, her eyes dilating with anger, her hands ready to wrap around Lincoln's neck, her jaw biting down hard. Lincoln got over his surprise and glared back, defiantly._

" _No I will not, Lori! Tell me how you're going to fix everything!"_

" _And why should I tell you?!"_

" _Because you caused property damage within my property! Can't you imagine how I feel?!"_

" _Well, nobody cares about how you do or feel, Lincoln! And frankly, nobody cares about you at all!" Lori yelled back with sincerity, her irritation for the brother in front of her reaching its peak… and slowly began to regret what came out of her mouth. Lincoln recoiled back, visibly shocked and hurt about what she said. His eyes were glossy as if tears were going to erupt. But that hurt and sadness turned to burning anger and quiet rage, and Lincoln shook with hatred as his eyes looked at Lori with such icy malice, that she would have flash-frozen._

" _L-Lincoln, I-."_

" _...Okay, Lori. If that's how you_ _ **really**_ _feel about me…"_

" _N-No! I didn't-." The contrite Lori couldn't finish, as Lincoln's hands grabbed the fabric of her shirt and reeled her face in until she was an inch away from his furious face. Oh how the tables turned._

" _So from saying that you don't love me at all, you're saying that you don't appreciate me doing your chores, helping you maintain your relationship with your oh so sweet Bobby, and the mountain of things that I do for you?" Lincoln snarled in a quelled voice, only adding on the pile of guilt Lori was inadvertently building in her heart. "Let me tell you something that you should already know: You should watch what you say to others, as words are the most powerful weapon you have. So tell me Lori, was it really wise to say dumb stuff like that? So if you wish to threaten and antagonize me with a 'truth', then let me tell you mine in return…" Lincoln proposed, then lean close to her trembling form and into her ear._ _"You repair my room to what it used to be, comics, posters, bed sheets, book report, everything. Because if you don't… you get to feel what I felt when your wardrobe gets torched and I drench that phone of yours in paint." Lincoln threatened, his rage and malicious feelings going on full-blast. "And I would do it with a wide smile on my face."_

 _All Lori felt at that moment was her heart freezing up and despair creeping along her goosebumped skin. It was the first time she ever felt this, and she would never admit this, but she was literally_ _ **scared**_ _of Lincoln and what he might do. I mean, what happened to the nice boy who helped his ten sisters out with a smile on his face? What happened to the man with the plan? This Lincoln was filled with rage, absolutely incandescent and, for reasons she knows but still denies, it was understandable that Lincoln feels this way._

" _You wouldn't…!"_

" _Oh it's just a threat, but if you don't follow through, then it might be 'truth', straight from the heart, just like what you said earlier." Lincoln quietly replied, securing his threat towards Lori, who blanched. She wouldn't be able to live without her clothes and phone. What would she wear? How would she contact Bobby? That feeling of emptiness and desolation… it was the same as what Lincoln felt, and Lori hated that._

 _After a minute of silence, Lincoln roughly released his sister, knowing that whatever message that involved her personal belongings got through to her. "I thought you knew better._ _I thought a 17-year-old would know the life-lesson of 'watching your mouth' by now._ _… Guess I was wrong. In the end, I'm guessing that you value your phone above your family, don't you…?" With that said, Lincoln turned heel, and walked away._

 **.o0o.**

It almost felt like yesterday, that moment when he was walking away from tired and guilt-ridden Lori. Within his worn-out heart, he could still hear the uncaring words she screamed in his face, but now the voice was crying out in the back of his head. At that point, the ashen-haired boy began to wonder about what would have happened if he just reigned his anger in. What would have happened if he just ignored Lori? Would the following events that would have transpired differently? Lincoln could only think of the worst that would have happened.

"Well, I think the worst of it is over, but what do we do…?" A woman's warm voice brought Lincoln out of his thoughts. Looking to his side, he saw the scene that happened that caused him to remember the cacophony that occurred when he said that he didn't know who they were. Within his mind, the white-haired boy does not have any memory of them, nor does he recall the world he was in now. One thing's for sure, this was not Royal Woods.

However, for some reason, in his heart, there was a very small lingering sentiment within, that's telling him that he knows them, however unbelieving it is. He did not recall a Scottish brute like the large man Charlie, or somebody as soft-hearted as the young robed George, or somebody as motherly as the maid Claudia, or even somebody as pompous as Walter. Yet, something about those four seemed to bother him, like he has seen something similar to those four.

At the moment, Sir Charlie, the large Scottish battle-hardened veteran, was on the ground, fainting seconds ago. His fall made a resounding thud on the wooden floors, causing some cracks to form underneath. The robed friar George was fanning Charlie while muttering prayers, in hopes of waking the large man up from his faint spell. Claudia and Walter are doing fine off on the side, although Claudia seemed flustered about the situation, while Walter was in deep thought. It was certainly perplexing on what to do next; after so many years of taking care of their Prince Lincoln Loud, nothing can even amount to what is needed to be done about amnesia.

Suddenly, within the clouding silence, Walter perked up, a topic in his head that required private discussion. "Claudia, may I doth speak to thee in private?" He requested, in which the maid wordlessly obliged and walked outside. The butler was about to follow, until he stopped and turned his head. "George, you do not have to keep fanning the oaf, nor must you mutter those utterances."

"Thou art _not_ utterances, and neither was I muttering! T'was praying prayers to help Sir Charlie wake up!" George snapped back at the retreating form of Walter, his boyish voice cracking a little as he rushed towards the door Walter and Claudia exited from, clearly wanting to give the pompous servant a piece of his mind. And with that, the door closed, giving Lincoln a sense of uneasy silence, while Charlie laid unconscious still. A headache pulsed in Lincoln's skull, easily feeling the pressure from everything that has happened, no matter how unbelievable it presented itself.

' _So I'm stuck in what looks like a 'medieval dream', with 'medieval garb' and 'medieval beddings' and with a 'medieval bear head' mounted on the wall. I'm even in a literal 'castle', where I am a 'prince', with 'literal servants'… If this was a prank from Luan to get back at me, then she's gone through very elaborate and detailed set-ups for this.'_ Lincoln assessed, trying to find some reasonable explanation for this. He got up from his bed and felt the environment around him. Of course, it felt like various, realistic animal fur on the bed, real old linen on his clothes, archaic stone on the walls, and soft bear pelts on his bed, and the freakish head mounted on the wall.

' _But then again…'_ Lincoln mused in his mind, _'I did dream about having ten brothers instead of sisters, and look how that turned out to be.'_ He wistfully thought, how the alternate reality he always wanted (well, more like wanted six hours before) turned into a nightmare. It sure taught him to be careful on what he wished for, lest he wound up in the same situation. But this… this reality felt so real yet not so real. His hand felt the animal pelt blanket on him, how authentic and tanned it was. Something in his heart told him that this was home, yet his mind said otherwise…

Lincoln's thoughts were interrupted, however, by Charlie stirring in his faint spell. "Oi… Tha' was a frightenin' nightmare… Lord Lincoln wakin' up and havin' no memories…?" He murmured to himself, rubbing his head from the fall. Watching the lumbering man sit up from his spot, Lincoln decided he would get the information through the horse's mouth.

"Um…". The boy began, his voice faltering on how to begin his questions. "...Mr… _Sir_ Charlie, do you know who I am…?" The man perked up from his pain, looking at the boy with wonder.

"Aye! Lord Lincoln!" Quickly, he got into a kneeling position, bowing his head on one knee. "M'liege! I have hoped dat you hadda nice loveleh nap!" He spoke in a much more formal way towards the confused boy, while also being a little louder than usual. Guess he was just excited and relieved that whatever happened 15 minutes ago was a dream, but that was to be shattered, the moment Lincoln opened his mouth.

"L-Liege? W-what kingdom is this, Sir Charlie? Am I a prince?" Lincoln asked, logic being overthrown by desperation by this point. His breathing began to hitch. Charlie then looked up, staring at Lincoln with almost disbelieving eyes, before his emotions change. Lincoln didn't know why but Charlie's sorrowful face nearly broke his heart.

"So it wasn't a dream…" The man softly muttered, his eyes trained to the floor. "You… really lost yer memories, aye…" His buff form shook a little, almost as if he was about to shed a tear. But he held firm, as the man looked deep into Lincoln's eyes, almost resonating with concern. "Please tell me, milord… Arr' thou okay? What was de last thing you remember?"

The man's words made Lincoln freeze up, but immediately the linen-wearing boy calmed down. He nearly was about to spew what happened in the Loud House, and this Charlie man in front of him would look at him like he was crazy. Thankfully, being the 'man with the plan', he responded with a simple:

"I don't know."

And it was the best answer he could come up with, because he literally doesn't know anything about this world.

"Oh, that's jus' bloody helpful…" Charlie muttered to himself, facepalming in the process. Honestly, he wasn't the type to think for long periods of time in his head. He was more of the muscular guy, just swinging the sword at his opponents.

"Umm, Sir Charlie…" The voice of a nervous Lincoln Loud broke his stupor. The old knight looked at the boy, worried, his hands shaky. It was then that a few tears came out of his eyes, and he hugged his prince tightly, yet gently.

"Oh, mi'lord!" He broke down, confusing the startled Lincoln. "I'm just glad you're back in da land of da livin'…" Like a grandfather crying on the shoulder of his adopted son who just came back to life, Lincoln couldn't help but pat on the big guy's shoulder. Once again, the warmth and familiarity began to strike him, harder this time. But he didn't mind if they stayed like this for a little bit, but there was one thing clearly on his mind. The question that was more rampant than a Sisternado. One that made him begin to fear who he was above all else.

' _Who am I in this world?'_

 **.o0o.**

"Lady Claudia… Is it really a good idea?" Walter asked, clear worry in his voice. He has been aghast at what he has heard from the maid's mouth.

"Yes… I think… No, I _know_ that it's both a good idea, and the best time to do it now." Claudia's serious face never lied; not when she scolded, nor when she yelled.

"I understand your sentiment, Claudia, but don't you think thou art being a little too hasty? The young prince has barely woken up, and without his memories, no doubt." Walter tried to reason, but Claudia's look intensified.

"All the more reason to go _now_!" Claudia hissed, tears stinging her eyes. "If word got out that Lord Lincoln, the newly dubbed _'Disgraced Prince of Magna'_ , is alive, then they'll go after him on a witch hunt! We can't keep him here until they come, Walter… We can't…"

"Claudia…" Walter wasn't sure what to say. On one hand, he, and the motley crew of servants have raised Lincoln in these very halls. On the other… the ones who hired them are now out to kill the one they serve.

"Ms. Claudia, why do you cry?" George's boyish voice poked through the door, as his head peeped from its open edge, looking genuinely concerned.

"Oh, George… Forgive me, but I cannot help but allow the tears to fall." Claudia's broken voice twinged at both men's hearts.

"What? What can be so wrong from our Lord Lincoln's return to the land of the living?" George asked, but Walter's face turned grim.

"Yes, but if word gets out, then they'll come hither and kill him, George." The blunt butler replied, having George's eyes widen out of pure shock.

"N-NO! They wouldn't!" The young friar always had that innocent, positive outlook on life, Walter thought.

"They would." Claudia had to break it into him. "Therefore, we only have one option." She added, before walking out of the room, signalling both of them to follow.

"That would be…?" Walter began, but in his heart, he knew what she was going to say.

"Run and start a new life somewhere." Her words made George gasp.

"B-But what are we going to do with the royalty? We can't leave! It's Lincoln's birthright to be in here!" The friar replied naively. Walter was going to reprimand him, but Claudia beat him to the punch by gripping his shoulders and looking at him dead in the eye.

"George! How can you be so short-sighted at what is happening around you?" She all but shouted in his face, as she was sick of his optimism in a grim serious situation like this. "After what has happened during the past years, you think we can stay here and pretend nothing has happened?! NO! The royalty and her people will come for us, demanding our Lord Lincoln's head AND ours!" By now, Claudia took a few deep breaths and slowly lost her frustration towards the shell-shocked George. "I'm sorry, George, but…our Lord Lincoln's safety is top priority…"

"...I…"

"She's right, George, no matter how… harsh she said her words." Walter continued, his voice a lot more reassuring. "Please don't think ill of us. You don't have to come if you wish, but… we really need you to come. Lord Lincoln needs you, George."

"...O...Okay, George, Claudia." George looked in their eyes, after taking the maid's words in. "For Lincoln."

"For Lincoln." Both of them repeated, like a vow traded between the four servants.

"Now to find the big oaf. Most likely still with Lord Lincoln now, still balling his eyes out." Walter smiled as the trio walked towards their prince's room, only to discover that it was empty.

"Where did Ser Charlie go?" George stammered, looking around the room frantically. Claudia and Walter were in the same mindset, until both of them noticed the empty bowl of stew.

"Did they go into the kitchen?" Claudia asked, in such a hushed panicked tone, but Walter knew better.

"No… the kitchen is nearby. We would be hearing them by now…" The butler deduced, but then feared the worst. If they weren't in the kitchen, then they would be somewhere… "...far away…"

"What?!" The friar and the maid gasped.

"Quickly! To the main gate!" Walter yelled, opening the door and sprinting as fast as he could towards the main gate, dreading what would happen next.

 **.o0o.**

"Is this it, Ser Charlie?"

"Yes, mi'lord! Here he is!" The Scottish brute of a knight pointed towards the large framed painting adorned right across the main doorway leading to outside. It was definitely adorned with the oldest of gold, along with the nameplate at the bottom, reading:

' _King Lincoln "Ace" Loud I'_

' _Warrior of thousands, rescuer of thousands more.'_

' _May thy predecessors in the future honour your name and glory once more.'_

"Wow…" Lincoln looked at the painting. It depicted the bright golden sun within the dark clouds in the background, and a warrior and a few dead bodies of his enemies at the foreground. Complete with a shield and sword, yet he wasn't using them at all in the battle. Rather, he had his shield block arrows coming at him, while using what looks like a shovel to dig out his fellow caved-in soldiers from underground. It was like trench warfare, but with someone able to help with the rescuing and carrying.

"Yep, a true guardian to 'is fellow soldiers." Charlie recounted, "Not jus' as a mighty knight, also for 'is selfless attitude! See, da paintin' you see here depicts da war against our enemies. But the terrain was bloody terrible, to da point of our men sickin' down in the swamps! But da king refused ta leave no man behind, and it really shows!" The older man chuckled, but Lincoln widened his eyes at the story, just imagining how caring he must have been. Looking at the warrior king again, he could tell that this wasn't your ordinary king. His posture was much more different. Instead of standing triumphantly, white hair shining radiantly, he was kneeling down, mud and dirt on the armour. The shield on one hand blocking incoming projectiles like arrows, and the other grabbing the hands of his friendly soldiers and bringing them up to the surface, along with a shovel on his back, and a sword near his hip. He didn't look like a ruler, but more like a selfless man. "A selfless man who always 'ad an 'ace' up 'is sleeve. Dat's King Lincoln the first!"

"Wait, 'ace'?" Lincoln repeated, perking up at that word. "What did you mean by 'ace', Ser Charlie?"

"Oh, right. Take a look over dere, mi'lord." Charlie pointed a fat finger towards the shovel in the painting. "See dat? Dat's da famous spade yerr forefather used!"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-?"

"I was gettin' to dat!" Charlie interrupted. "Dat shovel dug out three of the forts dat sunk underground when da rain got so unnaturally heavy dat day. Da first king kept digging at dem spots until he brought the men out. It also hurt when he used it as a weapon. Nobody expected da shovel! Ahahahahaha!" The elderly Scottish brute laughed jovially at the story, but Lincoln was glad he got some clarification. The reason was… the spade's shape reminded him of…

' _Ace Savvy… my forefather is… Ace Savvy…?'_

"Anyway, dat's kinda it fer King Lincoln Da First." Charlie concluded, scratching his head at what to do next.

"Ser Charlie…" Lincoln muttered suddenly, which made Charlie stop his scratching.

"Yes, mi'lord?" The old knight kneeled, like he was being called.

"C-Could you…" Lincoln nervously began, but he was a little afraid at what his request entailed.

"Umm… yes?" Charlie looked at Lincoln and tilted his head, a little concerned.

"Could you please… tell me…" Lincoln took a deep breath. "... what I have done… the past year and a half?"

"Erm…!" Charlie looked like he swallowed a slug, his eyes bulging out and his mouth agape, as he struggled unprepared to find an answer to that question, but before he could deduce an answer…

 _ **CRASH!**_

"I believe I could answer that for you."

The door in the main hall broke down, startling both males, as they looked towards the bright light, along with the shadow of a woman holding an axe. Lincoln could not tell who exactly it was, but Charlie did, and in panic, drew his sword against the unwelcome visitor.

"You! W-What are you doing 'ere?!"

"What do you think, old man? I'm here for my _brother._ You think you can draw your sword against _me_?"

The figure stepped forward, heavy boots clomping on the floor, before Lincoln could see who was in front of him more clearly. What he saw… her face shocked him to the core.

"So you're finally awoken, _brother…_ " The young blonde-haired woman snarled in front of him, her eyes narrow, her face angry.

"L-Lori…?" Lincoln stuttered, frozen in shock and fear. To think he would see her here… what in the world was she doing here?

"Princess Lorina!" Ser Charlie got into a battle stance, his eyes trained on the woman wielding the greataxe in her hand. "As Lord Lincoln's retainer, I won't allow ya to 'arm an 'air on 'im, as long as I stand! Raaaaaaahhh!" The senior warrior charged, but a quick disarm and backhand pushed the man aside.

"Tsk. You should retire early, old man." She offhandedly comments. She just turned her eyes towards Lincoln, backed in a corner. She just casually walked towards him, but each step felt like booming thunder towards the gallows, and Lori was the executioner.

"L-Lori… please! D-Don't…" Lincoln sputtered and put his hands up in front of his face, but that proved ineffective as his sister mockingly smiled, until she grabbed her greataxe.

"Well well… Shouldn't you be facing your death honourably?" Lorina mocked, sneering at Lincoln's cowardice, before raising her axe, and swinging downward.


End file.
